


i'm not yours (there's not too many)

by lesblep



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Aunt May Is Busy, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Canon, Short Drabble, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, crack your nuts!, owo bros secret santa 2k18, she's not dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 09:31:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17221370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesblep/pseuds/lesblep
Summary: Tony doesn't think he'd be a good parent. Fortunately for him, he doesn't get that choice right now.





	i'm not yours (there's not too many)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bistark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bistark/gifts).



> I'm not yours, and you're not mine  
> But we can sit and pass the time  
> No fighting wars, no ringing chimes  
> We're just feeling fine
> 
> -Lights, Quiet

Tony wants to establish this much: he’s not good dad material. He’s got a couple of those fun little things we call ‘deep-rooted trauma’ and ‘abandonment issues’ but the point is he’d rather not be a dad or a dad-adjacent figure until he gets more therapy.

 

So _why the fuck_ did Spiderkid call him from the hospital? He’s got a perfectly good aunt, one who’s mature, and knows his medical information, and goddamn he is not prepared in any way for this situation.

 

“Mister Stark?” The nurse chirps, all red hair and a too-tense smile, “You can come in now.”

 

“Thanks,” he brushes imaginary dust off his suit pants and pushes past her. Into the room.

 

It smells like all hospitals do. Sterile and sad and too-crisp, like an ice cube tried to quit smoking by constantly chewing gum, if gum came in iodoform flavour. Parker is in the (Bed? Gurney? What’s the difference, again?), passed out, a fucktonne of drips and medical equipment on rolling carts scattered around the room. He feels the walls closing in, just for a moment, before sitting down heavy in an identical chair to the ones in the hallway. The cushion is wildly firm. Tony contemplates, fleetingly, donating to this place (New York Presbyterian, Queens branch) so they can get some decent seating, then zones back in.

 

“Hey, kid,” he says lowly. “Whatever you did, I’m proud of you. I’ll be even more proud of you when you wake up.” The kid- Peter- has all manner of scrapes, a couple gashes here and there, and the nastiest black eye he’s ever seen. His stitches, blue, are stained a brownish red where his injuries must’ve reopened.

 

“Did you piss off an entire army made of knives or some shit?” Tony wonders aloud, does not trace the brand new starburst that sits neatly in the centre of his palm. How long did Peter sit alone after his fight, waiting for his skin to knit itself back together, before realising his healing factor couldn’t make up for the blood loss? What _did_ this to him? Why didn’t he ask for help?

 

 _Beep-beep-beep,_ the heart rate monitor complains. Peter explodes awake, sitting up fast enough to snap a few stitches, and Tony, panicked, slams the closest call nurse button.

 

“Mister Stark I’m sorry I should’ve listened to you he was so fast and he didn’t even care he was hurting me so bad and I tried to catch one of his bombs to minimise collateral damage because you’re always lecturing me about that,” his fingers flex, instinctively, and Tony flinches to see the new scar tissue stretch. “And then he. He.”

 

“Shh,” Tony says, calls forth all the nights he woke up screaming for his parents, “slow down, kid. Breathe. Who’s ‘he?’”

 

“Green Goblin,” Peter says, “Harry’s dad.”

 

Tony knows who Osborn is. He’s not a fuckin’ idiot, he keeps tabs on the kid’s classmates after the Vulture Incident, but why the guy’s flying around calling himself a supervillain isn’t exactly _obvious_ , okay? “It’s gonna be okay,” he says. “Your aunt’s on the way. I texted her as soon as I got here.”

 

“She doesn’t get it, Mister Stark-” Peter protests, right before being cut off by the red-headed nurse, who practically kicks the door down to make sure nobody’s having a seizure or anything. Tony takes the chance to slip away, passes May in the hall on his way out.

 

“Mister Stark,” May says, syllables rounded the same way her nephew’s are, careful even in her breathing, “thank you. So much.” She holds out a hand. “I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t look out for Peter.”

 

They both know what she’s talking about.

 

“Take care of him,” he replies, instead of turning around and sitting with the kid and his aunt in the stuffy little room and holding his hand so he can grow up different than Tony did.

 

“Always,” May says, and then she’s gone.

 

Tony lets her go.

 

(He has a goblin to catch.)

**Author's Note:**

> dear pete bistark ilysm blease take care of yourself because i cant fuckin wait to see you grow up and kick ass love kit lesblep


End file.
